I couldn’t have had a better morning

Good morning everybody.  It’s so nice to be home.  I woke up this morning and was so happy to be in my own bed.  Rolled over on my side and watched my husband sleep, his mouth slightly ajar, face peaceful.  He’s gotten some laugh lines in the seven years we’ve been together.  He might think they make him look old, but I love them.  It gives me comfort to see the creases spread out from the corners of his eyes.  Fanning out, almost reaching his temples, kissing his cheek bones.

It used to be, when we first got together, and I would watch him sleep, that I would get scared, because his face was so still, shut.  I couldn’t find any trace or proof that he loved me.  That he was still there, inside his body.

But this morning, watching him sleep, I could see proof positive of our life, our love, the hours we have spent together, laughing, worrying, loving. 

When he awoke, slow and sleepy, having to blink hard, once, twice, seeing me, the smile in his eyes and heart calling the laughter lines into full use.  We lay on our sides, me snuggled down facing him propped up on his elbow, and I talked and he listened like he was interested, like he really wanted to know, and I shared where I had been with him, stories of the places we’d gone, the people we met, conversations had. 

And when we were talked all out, and other things too, I put on my soft new robe that he had bought for me while I was away.  Let the dogs out and then returned to the kitchen and made chicken sausages and buttermilk waffles with the waffle iron that my friend Ilene gave me seventeen years ago.  A waffle iron that was her grandmother’s before she died.  And so thoughts of Ilene were with me as well as we ate the delicious breakfast and my boy said, “Um…tastes good.“

So happy to be home.

Posted by Meg Tilly on Saturday, April 26, 2008 in Chewing the Fat